The_BFG - Copy

The Queen

Dawn came at last, and the rim of a lemon-coloured sun rose up behind the roof-tops somewhere
behind Victoria Station.

A while later, Sophie felt a little of its warmth on her back and was grateful.

In the distance, she heard a church clock striking. She counted the strikes. There were seven.

She found it almost impossible to believe that she, Sophie, a little orphan of no real importance in the
world, was at this moment actually sitting high above the ground on the window-sill of the Queen of
England's bedroom, with the Queen herself asleep in there behind the curtain not more than five yards
away.

The very idea of it was absurd.

No one had ever done such a thing before.

It was a terrifying thing to be doing.

What would happen if the dream didn't work?

No one, least of all the Queen, would believe a word of her story.

It seemed possible that nobody had ever woken up to find a small child sitting behind the curtains on his
or her window-sill.

The Queen was bound to get a shock.

Who wouldn't?

With all the patience of a small girl who has something important to wait for, Sophie sat motionless on
the window-sill.

How much longer? she wondered.

What time do Queens wake up?

Faint stirrings and distant sounds came to her from deep inside the belly of the Palace.

Then, all at once, beyond the curtains, she heard the voice of the sleeper in the bedroom. It was a
slightly blurred sleep-talker's voice. 'Oh no!' it cried out. 'No! Don't — Someone stop them! — Don't let
them do it! — I can't bear it! — Oh please stop them! — It's horrible! — Oh, it's ghastly! — No! No! No!
...'

She is having the dream, Sophie told herself. It must be really horrid. I feel so sorry for her. But it has to
be done.

After that, there were a few moans. Then there was a long silence.

Sophie waited. She looked over her shoulder. She was terrified that she would see the man with the dog
down in the garden staring up at her. But the garden was deserted. A pale summer mist hung over it like
smoke. It was an enormous garden, very beautiful, with a large funny-shaped lake at the far end. There
was an island in the lake and there were ducks swimming on the water.

Inside the room, beyond the curtains, Sophie suddenly heard what was obviously a knock on the door.
She heard the doorknob being turned. She heard someone entering the room.

'Good morning, Your Majesty,' a woman was saying. It was the voice of an oldish person.

There was a pause and then a slight rattle of china and silver.

'Will you have your tray on the bed, ma'am, or on the table?'

'Oh Mary! Something awful has just happened!' This was a voice Sophie had heard many times on radio
and television, especially on Christmas Day. It was a very well-known voice.

'Whatever is it, ma'am?'

'I've just had the most frightful dream! It was a nightmare! It was awful!'

'Oh, I am sorry, ma'am. But don't be distressed. You're awake now and it will go away. It was only a
dream, ma'am.'

'Do you know what I dreamt, Mary? I dreamt that girls and boys were being snatched out of their beds
at boarding-school and were being eaten by the most ghastly giants! The giants were putting their arms
in through the dormitory windows and plucking the children out with their fingers! One lot from a girls'
school and another from a boys' school! It was all so ... so vivid, Mary! It was so real!'

There was a silence. Sophie waited. She was quivering with excitement. But why the silence? Why didn't
the other one, the maid, why didn't she say something?

'What on earth's the matter, Mary?' the famous voice was saying.

There was another silence.

'Mary! You've gone as white as a sheet! Are you feeling ill?'

There was suddenly a crash and a clatter of crockery which could only have meant that the tray the maid
was carrying had fallen out of her hands.

'Mary!' the famous voice was saying rather sharply. 'I think you'd better sit down at once! You look as
though you're going to faint! You really mustn't take it so hard just because I've had an awful dream.'

'That ... that ... that isn't the reason, ma'am.' The maid's voice was quivering terribly.

'Then for heaven's sake what is the reason?'

'I'm very sorry about the tray, ma'am.'

'Oh, don't worry about the tray. But what on earth was it that made you drop it? Why did you go white
as a ghost all of a sudden?'

'You haven't seen the papers yet, have you, ma'am?'

'No, what do they say?'

Sophie heard the rustling of a newspaper as it was being handed over.

'It's like the very dream you had in the night, ma'am.'

'Rubbish, Mary. Where is it?'

'On the front page, ma'am. It's the big headlines.'

'Great Scott!' cried the famous voice. 'Eighteen girls vanish mysteriously from their beds at Roedean
School! Fourteen boys disappear from Eton! Bones are found underneath dormitory windows!'

Then there was a pause punctuated by gasps from the famous voice as the newspaper article was clearly
being read and digested.

'Oh, how ghastly!' the famous voice cried out. 'It's absolutely frightful! Bones under the windows! What
can have happened? Oh, those poor children!'

'But ma'am ... don't you see, ma'am ...'

'See what, Mary?'

'Those children were taken away almost exactly as you dreamt it, ma'am!'

'Not by giants, Mary.'

'No, ma'am. But the bit about the girls and boys disappearing from their dormitories, you dreamt it so
clearly and then it actually happened. That's why I came over all queer, ma'am.'

'I'm coming over a bit queer myself, Mary.'

'It gives me the shakes, ma'am, when something like that happens, it really does.'

'I don't blame you, Mary.'

'I shall get you some more breakfast, ma'am, and have this mess cleared up.'

'No! Don't go, Mary! Stay here a moment!'

Sophie wished she could see into the room, but she didn't dare touch the curtains. The famous voice
began speaking again. 'I really did dream about those children, Mary. It was clear as crystal.'

'I know you did, ma'am.'

'I don't know how giants got into it. That was rubbish.'

'Shall I draw the curtains, ma'am, then we shall all feel better. It's a lovely day.'

'Please do.'

With a swish, the great curtains were pulled aside.

The maid screamed.

Sophie froze to the window-ledge.

The Queen, sitting up in her bed with The Times on her lap, glanced up sharply. Now it was her turn to
freeze. She didn't scream as the maid had done. Queens are too self-controlled for that. She simply sat
there staring wide-eyed and white-faced at the small girl who was perched on her window-sill in a
nightie.

Sophie was petrified.

Curiously enough, the Queen looked petrified, too. One would have expected her to look surprised, as
you or I would have done had we discovered a small girl sitting on our window-sill first thing in the
morning. But the Queen didn't look surprised. She looked genuinely frightened.
The maid, a middle-aged woman with a funny cap on the top of her head, was the first to recover. 'What
in the name of heaven do you think you're doing in here?' she shouted angrily to Sophie.
Sophie looked beseechingly towards the Queen for help.
The Queen was still staring at Sophie. Gaping at her would be more accurate. Her mouth was slightly
open, her eyes were round and wide as two saucers, and the whole of that famous rather lovely face
was filled with disbelief.
'Now listen here, young lady, how on earth did you get into this room?' the maid shouted furiously.
'I don't believe it,' the Queen was murmuring. 'I simply don't believe it.'
'I'll take her out, ma'am, at once,' the maid was saying,
'No, Mary! No, don't do that!' The Queen spoke so sharply that the maid was quite taken aback. She
turned and stared at the Queen. What on earth had come over her? It looked as though she was in a
state of shock.

'Are you all right, ma'am?' the maid was saying.
When the Queen spoke again, it was in a strange strangled sort of whisper. 'Tell me, Mary,' she said, 'tell
me quite truthfully, is there really a little girl sitting on my window-sill, or am I still dreaming?'
'She is sitting there all right, ma'am, as clear as daylight, but heaven only knows how she got there! Your
Majesty is certainly not dreaming it this time!'

'But that's exactly what I did dream!' the Queen cried out. 'I dreamt that as well! I dreamt there would
be a little girl sitting on my window-sill in her nightie and she would talk to me!'
The maid, with her hands clasped across her starched white bosom, was staring at her mistress with a
look of absolute disbelief on her face. The situation was getting beyond her. She was lost. She had not
been trained to cope with this kind of madness.
'Are you real?' the Queen said to Sophie.
'Y-y-yes, Your Majesty,' Sophie murmured.
'What is your name?'
'Sophie, Your Majesty.'
'And how did you get up on to my window-sill? No, don't answer that! Hang on a moment! I dreamed
that part of it, too! I dreamed that a giant put you there!'
'He did, Your Majesty,' Sophie said.
The maid gave a howl of anguish and clasped her hands over her face.
'Control yourself, Mary,' the Queen said sharply. Then to Sophie she said, 'You are not serious about the
giant, are you?'

'Oh yes, Your Majesty. He's out there in the garden now.'
'Is he indeed,' the Queen said. The sheer absurdity of it all was helping her to regain her composure. 'So
he's in the garden, is he?' she said, smiling a little.
'He is a good giant, Your Majesty,' Sophie said. 'You need not be frightened of him.'
'I'm delighted to hear it,' said the Queen, still smiling.
'He is my best friend, Your Majesty.'

'How nice,' the Queen said.

'He's a lovely giant, Your Majesty.'

'I'm quite sure he is,' the Queen said. 'But why have you and this giant come to see me?'

'I think you have dreamed that part of it, too, Your Majesty,' Sophie said calmly.

That pulled the Queen up short.

It took the smile right off her face.

She certainly had dreamed that part of it. She was remembering now how, at the end of her dream, it
had said that a little girl and a big friendly giant would come and show her how to find the nine horrible
man-eating giants.

But be careful, the Queen told herself. Keep very calm. Because this is surely not very far from the place
where madness begins.

'You did dream that, didn't you, Your Majesty?' Sophie said.

The maid was out of it now. She just stood there goggling.

'Yes,' the Queen murmured. 'Yes, now you come to mention it, I did. But how do you know what I
dreamed?'

'Oh, that's a long story, Your Majesty,' Sophie said. 'Would you like me to call the Big Friendly Giant?'

The Queen looked at the child. The child looked straight back at the Queen, her face open and quite
serious. The Queen simply didn't know what to make of it. Was someone pulling her leg, she wondered.

'Shall I call him for you?' Sophie went on. 'You'll like him very much.'

The Queen took a deep breath. She was glad no one except her faithful old Mary was here to see what
was going on. 'Very well,' she said. 'You may call your giant. No, wait a moment. Mary, pull yourself
together and give me my dressing-gown and slippers.'

The maid did as she was told. The Queen got out of bed and put on a pale pink dressing-gown and
slippers.

'You may call him now,' the Queen said.

Sophie turned her head towards the garden and called out, 'BFG! Her Majesty The Queen would like to
see you!'

The Queen crossed over to the window and stood beside Sophie.

'Come down off that ledge,' she said. 'You're going to fall backwards any moment.'

Sophie jumped down into the room and stood beside the Queen at the open window. Mary, the maid,
stood behind them. Her hands were now planted firmly on her hips and there was a look on her face
which seemed to say, 'I want no part of this fiasco.'

'I don't see any giant,' the Queen said.

'Please wait,' Sophie said.

'Shall I take her away now, ma'am?' the maid said.

'Take her downstairs and give her some breakfast,' the Queen said.

Just then, there was a rustle in the bushes beside the lake.

Then out he came!

Twenty-four feet tall, wearing his black cloak with the grace of a nobleman, still carrying his long
trumpet in one hand, he strode magnificently across the Palace lawn towards the window.
The maid screamed.
The Queen gasped.
Sophie waved.
The BFG took his time. He was very dignified in his approach. When he was close to the window where
the three of them were standing, he stopped and made a slow graceful bow. His head, after he had
straightened up again, was almost exactly level with the watchers at the window.
'Your Majester,' he said. 'I is your humbug servant.' He bowed again.
Considering she was meeting a giant for the first time in her life, the Queen remained astonishingly self-
composed. 'We are very pleased to meet you,' she said.
Down below, a gardener was coming across the lawn with a wheelbarrow. He caught sight of the BFG's
legs over to his left. His gaze travelled slowly upwards along the entire height of the enormous body. He
gripped the handles of the wheelbarrow. He swayed. He tottered. Then he keeled over on the grass in a
dead faint. Nobody noticed him.

'Oh, Majester!' cried the BFG. 'Oh, Queen! Oh Monacher! Oh, Golden Sovereign! Oh, Ruler! Oh, Ruler of
Straight Lines! Oh, Sultana! I is come here with my little friend Sophie ... to give you a ...' The BFG
hesitated, searching for the word.
'To give me what?' the Queen said.
'A sistance,' the BFG said, beaming.
The Queen looked puzzled.
'He sometimes speaks a bit funny, Your Majesty,' Sophie said. 'He never went to school.'
'Then we must send him to school,' the Queen said. 'We have some very good schools in this country.'
'I has great secrets to tell Your Majester,' the BFG said.
'I should be delighted to hear them,' the Queen said. 'But not in my dressing-gown.'

'Shall you wish to get dressed, ma'am?' the maid said.
'Have either of you had breakfast?' the Queen said.

'Oh, could we?' Sophie cried. 'Oh, please! I haven't eaten a thing since yesterday!'
'I was about to have mine,' the Queen said, 'but Mary dropped it.'
The maid gulped.
'I imagine we have more food in the Palace,' the Queen said, speaking to the BFG. 'Perhaps you and your
little friend would care to join me.'
'Will it be repulsant snozzcumbers, Majester?' the BFG asked.
'Will it be what?' the Queen said.
'Stinky snozzcumbers,' the BFG said.
'What is he talking about?' the Queen said. 'It sounds like a rude word to me.' She turned to the maid
and said, 'Mary, ask them to serve breakfast for three in the ... I think it had better be in the Ballroom.
That has the highest ceiling.' To the BFG, she said, 'I'm afraid you will have to go through the door on
your hands and knees. I shall send someone to show you the way.'
The BFG reached up and lifted Sophie out of the window. 'You and I is leaving Her Majester alone to get
dressed,' he said.

'No, leave the little girl here with me,' the Queen said. 'We'll have to find something for her to put on.
She can't have breakfast in her nightie.'

The BFG returned Sophie to the bedroom.

'Can we have sausages, Your Majesty?' Sophie said. 'And bacon and fried eggs?'

'I think that might be managed,' the Queen answered, smiling.

'Just you wait till you taste it!' Sophie said to the BFG. 'No more snozzcumbers from now on!'

The Royal Breakfast

There was a frantic scurry among the Palace servants when orders were received from the Queen that a
twenty-four-foot giant must be seated with Her Majesty in the Great Ballroom within the next half-hour.

The butler, an imposing personage named Mr Tibbs, was in supreme command of all the palace servants
and he did the best he could in the short time available. A man does not rise to become the Queen's
butler unless he is gifted with extraordinary ingenuity, adaptability, versatility, dexterity, cunning,
sophistication, sagacity, discretion and a host of other talents that neither you nor I possess. Mr Tibbs
had them all. He was in the butler's pantry sipping an early morning glass of light ale when the order
reached him. In a split second he had made the following calculations in his head: if a normal six-foot
man requires a three-foot-high table to eat off, a twenty-four-foot giant will require a twelve-foot-high
table.

And if a six foot man requires a chair with a two-foot-high seat, a twenty-four-foot giant will require a
chair with an eight-foot-high seat.

Everything, Mr Tibbs told himself, must be multiplied by four. Two breakfast eggs must become eight.
Four rashers of bacon must become sixteen. Three pieces of toast must become twelve, and so on.
These calculations about food were immediately passed on to Monsieur Papillion, the royal chef.

Mr Tibbs skimmed into the ballroom (butlers don't walk, they skim over the ground) followed by a
whole army of footmen. The footmen all wore knee-breeches and every one of them displayed
beautifully rounded calves and ankles. There is no way you can become a royal footman unless you have
a well-turned ankle. It is the first thing they look at when you are interviewed.

'Push the grand piano into the centre of the room,' Mr Tibbs whispered. Butlers never raise their voices
above the softest whisper.

Four footmen moved the piano.

'Now fetch a large chest-of-drawers and put it on top of the piano,' Mr Tibbs whispered.

Three other footmen fetched a very fine Chippendale mahogany chest-of-drawers and placed it on top
of the piano.

'That will be his chair,' Mr Tibbs whispered. 'It is exactly eight feet off the ground. Now we shall make a
table upon which this gentleman may eat his breakfast in comfort. Fetch me four very tall grandfather
clocks. There are plenty of them around the Palace. Let each clock be twelve feet high.'

Sixteen footmen spread out around the Palace to find the clocks. They were not easy to carry and
required four footmen to each one.

'Place the four clocks in a rectangle eight feet by four alongside the grand piano,' Mr Tibbs whispered.

The footmen did so.

'Now fetch me the young Prince's ping-pong table,' Mr Tibbs whispered.

The ping-pong table was carried in.
'Unscrew its legs and take them away,' Mr Tibbs whispered. This was done.
'Now place the ping-pong table on top of the four grandfather clocks,' Mr Tibbs whispered. To manage
this, the footmen had to stand on stepladders.
Mr Tibbs stood back to survey the new furniture. 'None of it is in the classic style,' he whispered, 'but it
will have to do.' He gave orders that a damask table-cloth should be draped over the ping-pong table,
and in the end it looked really quite elegant after all.
At this point, Mr Tibbs was seen to hesitate. The footmen all stared at him, aghast. Butlers never
hesitate, not even when they are faced with the most impossible problems. It is their job to be totally
decisive at all times.
'Knives and forks and spoons,' Mr Tibbs was heard to mutter. 'Our cutlery will be like little pins in his
hands.'
But Mr Tibbs didn't hesitate for long. 'Tell the head gardener,' he whispered, 'that I require immediately
a brand new unused garden fork and also a spade. And for a knife we shall use the great sword hanging
on the wall in the morning-room. But clean the sword well first. It was last used to cut off the head of
King Charles the First and there may still be a little dried blood on the blade.'
When all this had been accomplished, Mr Tibbs stood near the centre of the Ballroom casting his expert
butler's eye over the scene. Had he forgotten anything? He certainly had. What about a coffee cup for
the large gentleman?
'Fetch me,' he whispered, 'the biggest jug you can find in the kitchen.'

A splendid one gallon porcelain water-jug was brought in and placed on the giant's table beside the
garden fork and the garden spade and the great sword.
So much for the giant.
Mr Tibbs then had the footmen move a small delicate table and two chairs alongside the giant's table.
This was for the Queen and for Sophie. The fact that the giant's table and chair towered far above the
smaller table simply could not be helped.

All these arrangements were only just completed when the Queen, now fully dressed in a trim skirt and
cashmere cardigan, entered the Ballroom holding Sophie by the hand. A pretty blue dress that had once
belonged to one of the Princesses had been found for Sophie, and to make her look prettier still, the

Queen had picked up a superb sapphire brooch from her dressing-table and had pinned it on the left
side of Sophie's chest. The Big Friendly Giant followed behind them, but he had an awful job getting
through the door. He had to squeeze himself through on his hands and knees, with two footmen
pushing him from behind and two pulling from the front. But he got through in the end. He had
removed his black cloak and got rid of his trumpet, and was now wearing his ordinary simple clothes.
As he walked across the Ballroom he had to stoop quite a lot to avoid hitting the ceiling. Because of this
he failed to notice an enormous crystal chandelier. Crash went his head right into the chandelier. A
shower of glass fell upon the poor BFG. 'Gunghummers and bogswinkles!' he cried. 'What was that?'
'It was Louis the Fifteenth,' the Queen said, looking slightly put out.
'He's never been in a house before,' Sophie said.
Mr Tibbs scowled. He directed four footmen to clear up the mess, then, with a disdainful little wave of
the hand, he indicated to the giant that he should seat himself on top of the chest-of-drawers on top of
the grand piano.
'What a phizz-whizzing flushbunking seat!' cried the BFG. 'I is going to be bug as a snug in a rug up here.'
'Does he always speak like that?' the Queen asked.
'Quite often,' Sophie said. 'He gets tangled up with his words.'
The BFG sat down on the chest-of-drawers-piano and gazed in wonder around the Great Ballroom. 'By
gum-drops!' he cried. 'What a spliffling whoppsy room we is in! It is so gigantuous I is needing bicirculers
and telescoops to see what is going on at the other end!'
Footmen arrived carrying silver trays with fried eggs, bacon, sausages and fried potatoes.

At this point, Mr Tibbs suddenly realized that in order to serve the BFG at his twelve-foot-high-
grandfather-clock table, he would have to climb to the top of one of the tall step-ladders. What's more,
he must do it balancing a huge warm plate on the palm of one hand and holding a gigantic silver coffee-

pot in the other. A normal man would have flinched at the thought of it. But good butlers never flinch.
Up he went, up and up and up, while the Queen and Sophie watched him with great interest. It is
possible they were both secretly hoping he would lose his balance and go crashing to the floor. But good
butlers never crash.
At the top of the ladder, Mr Tibbs, balancing like an acrobat, poured the BFG's coffee and placed the
enormous plate before him. On the plate there were eight eggs, twelve sausages, sixteen rashers of
bacon and a heap of fried potatoes.

'What is this please, Your Majester?' the BFG asked, peering down at the Queen.
'He has never eaten anything except snozzcumbers before in his life,' Sophie explained. 'They taste
revolting.'
'They don't seem to have stunted his growth,' the Queen said.

The BFG grabbed the garden spade and scooped up all the eggs, sausages, bacon and potatoes in one go
and shovelled them into his enormous mouth.

'By goggles!' he cried. 'This stuff is making snozzcumbers taste like swatchwallop!'

The Queen glanced up, frowning. Mr Tibbs looked down at his toes and his lips moved in silent prayer.

'That was only one titchy little bite,' the BFG said. 'Is you having any more of this delunctious grubble in
your cupboard, Majester?'

'Tibbs,' the Queen said, showing true regal hospitality, 'fetch the gentleman another dozen fried eggs
and a dozen sausages.'

Mr Tibbs swam out of the room muttering unspeakable words to himself and wiping his brow with a
white handkerchief.

The BFG lifted the huge jug and took a swallow. 'Owch!' he cried, blowing a mouthful across the
ballroom. 'Please, what is this horrible swigpill I is drinking, Majester?'

'It's coffee,' the Queen told him. 'Freshly roasted.'

'It's filthsome!' the BFG cried out. 'Where is the frobscottle?'

'The what?' the Queen asked.

'Delumptious fizzy frobscottle,' the BFG answered. 'Everyone must be drinking frobscottle with
breakfast, Majester. Then we can all be whizzpopping happily together afterwards.'

'What does he mean?' the Queen said, frowning at Sophie. 'What is whizzpopping?'

Sophie kept a very straight face. 'BFG,' she said, 'there is no frobscottle here and whizzpopping is strictly
forbidden!'

'What!' cried the BFG. 'No frobscottle? No whizzpopping? No glumptious music? No boom-boom-
boom?'

'Absolutely not,' Sophie told him firmly.

'If he wants to sing, please don't stop him,' the Queen said.

'He doesn't want to sing,' Sophie said.

'He said he wants to make music,' the Queen went on. 'Shall I send for a violin?'

'No, Your Majesty,' Sophie said. 'He's only joking.'

A sly little smile crossed the BFG's face. 'Listen,' he said, peering down at Sophie, 'if they isn't having any
frobscottle here in the Palace, I can still go whizzpopping perfectly well without it if I is trying hard
enough.'

'No!' cried Sophie. 'Don't! You're not to! I beg you!'

'Music is very good for the digestion,' the Queen said. 'When I'm up in Scotland, they play the bagpipes
outside the window while I'm eating. Do play something.'

'I has Her Majester's permission!' cried the BFG, and all at once he let fly with a whizzpopper that
sounded as though a bomb had exploded in the room.

The Queen jumped.

'Whoopee!' shouted the BFG. 'That is better than bagglepipes, is it not, Majester?'

It took the Queen a few seconds to get over the shock. 'I prefer the bagpipes,' she said. But she couldn't
stop herself smiling.

During the next twenty minutes, a whole relay of footmen were kept busy hurrying to and from the
kitchen carrying third helpings and fourth helpings and fifth helpings of fried eggs and sausages for the
ravenous and delighted BFG.

When the BFG had consumed his seventy-second fried egg, Mr Tibbs sidled up to the Queen. He bent
low from the waist and whispered in her ear, 'Chef sends his apologies, Your Majesty, and he says he has
no more eggs in the kitchen.'

'What's wrong with the hens?' the Queen said.

'Nothing's wrong with the hens, Your Majesty,' Mr Tibbs whispered.

'Then tell them to lay more,' the Queen said. She looked up at the BFG. 'Have some toast and
marmalade while you're waiting,' she said to him.

'The toast is finished,' Mr Tibbs whispered, 'and chef says there is no more bread.'

'Tell him to bake more,' the Queen said.

While all this was going on, Sophie had been telling the Queen everything, absolutely everything about
her visit to Giant Country. The Queen listened, appalled. When Sophie had finished, the Queen looked
up at the BFG who was sitting high above her. He was now eating a sponge-cake.

'Big Friendly Giant,' she said, 'last night those man-eating brutes came to England. Can you remember
where they went the night before?'

The BFG put a whole round sponge-cake into his mouth and chewed it slowly while he thought about
this question. 'Yes, Majester,' he said. 'I do think I is remembering where they said they was going the
night before last. They was galloping off to Sweden for the Sweden sour taste.'

'Fetch me a telephone,' the Queen commanded.

Mr Tibbs placed the instrument on the table. The Queen lifted the receiver. 'Get me the King of
Sweden,' she said.

'Good morning,' the Queen said. 'Is everything all right in Sweden?'

'Everything is terrible!' the King of Sweden answered. 'There is panic in the capital! Two nights ago,
twenty-six of my loyal subjects disappeared! My whole country is in a panic!'

'Your twenty-six loyal subjects were all eaten by giants,' the Queen said. 'Apparently they like the taste
of Swedes.'

'Why do they like the taste of Swedes?' the King asked.

'Because the Swedes of Sweden have a sweet and sour taste. So says the BFG,' the Queen said.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' the King said, growing testy. 'It's hardly a joking matter when
one's loyal subjects are being eaten like popcorn.'

'They've eaten mine as well,' the Queen said.

'Who's they, for heaven's sake?' the King asked.

'Giants,' the Queen said.

'Look here,' the King said, 'are you feeling all right?'

'It's been a rough morning,' the Queen said. 'First I had a horrid nightmare, then the maid dropped my
breakfast and now I've got a giant on the piano.'

'You need a doctor quick!' cried the King.

'I'll be all right,' the Queen said. 'I must go now. Thanks for your help.' She replaced the receiver.

'Your BFG is right,' the Queen said to Sophie. 'Those nine man-eating brutes did go to Sweden.'

'It's horrible,' Sophie said. 'Please stop them, Your Majesty.'

'I'd like to make one more check before I call out the troops,' the Queen said. Once more, she looked up
at the BFG. He was eating doughnuts now, popping them into his mouth ten at a time, like peas. 'Think
hard, BFG,' she said. 'Where did those horrid giants say they were galloping off to three nights ago?'

The BFG thought long and hard.

'Ho-ho!' he cried at last. 'Yes, I is remembering!'

'Where?' asked the Queen.

'One was off to Baghdad,' the BFG said. 'As they is galloping past my cave, Fleshlumpeater is waving his
arms and shouting at me, "I is off to Baghdad and I is going to Baghdad and mum and every one of their
ten children as well!"'

Once more, the Queen lifted the receiver. 'Get me the Lord Mayor of Baghdad,' she said. 'If they don't
have a Lord Mayor, get me the next best thing.'

In five seconds, a voice was on the line. 'Here is the Sultan of Baghdad speaking,' the voice said.

'Listen, Sultan,' the Queen said. 'Did anything unpleasant happen in your city three nights ago?'

'Every night unpleasant things are happening in Baghdad,' the Sultan said. 'We are chopping off people's
heads like you are chopping parsley.'

'I've never chopped parsley in my life,' the Queen said. 'I want to know if anyone has disappeared
recently in Baghdad?'

'Only my uncle, Caliph Haroun al Rashid,' the Sultan said. 'He disappeared from his bed three nights ago
together with his wife and ten children.'

'There you is!' cried the BFG, whose wonderful ears enabled him to hear what the Sultan was saying to
the Queen on the telephone. 'Fleshlumpeater did that one! He went off to Baghdad to bag dad and
mum and all the little kiddles!'

The Queen replaced the receiver. 'That proves it,' she said, looking up at the BFG. 'Your story is
apparently quite true. Summon the Head of the Army and the Head of the Air Force immediately!'

The Plan

The Head of the Army and the Head of the Air Force stood at attention beside the Queen's breakfast
table. Sophie was still in her seat and the BFG was still high up on his crazy perch.

It took the Queen only five minutes to explain the situation to the military men.

'I knew there was something like this going on, Your Majesty,' the Head of the Army said. 'For the last
ten years we have been getting reports from nearly every country in the world about people
disappearing mysteriously in the night. We had one only the other day from Panama ...'

'For the hatty taste!' cried the BFG.

'And one from Wellington, in New Zealand,' said the Head of the Army.

'For the booty flavour!' cried the BFG.

'What is he talking about?' said the Head of the Air Force.

'Work it out for yourself,' the Queen said. 'What time is it? Ten a.m. In eight hours those nine blood-
thirsty brutes will be galloping off to gobble up another couple of dozen unfortunate wretches. They
have to be stopped. We must act fast.'

'We'll bomb the blighters!' shouted the Head of the Air Force.

'We'll mow them down with machine-guns!' cried the Head of the Army.

'I do not approve of murder,' the Queen said.

'But they are murderers themselves!' cried the Head of the Army.

'That is no reason why we should follow their example,' the Queen said. 'Two wrongs don't make a
right.'

'And two rights don't make a left!' cried the BFG.

'We must bring them back alive,' the Queen said.

'How?' the two military men said together. 'They are all fifty feet high. They'd knock us down like
ninepins!'

'Wait!' cried the BFG. 'Hold your horseflies! Keep your skirts on! I think I has the answer to the maiden's
hair!'

'Let him speak,' the Queen said.

'Every afternoon,' the BFG said, 'all these giants is in the Land of Noddy.'

'I can't understand a word this feller says,' the Head of the Army snapped. 'Why doesn't he speak
clearly?'
'He means the Land of Nod,' Sophie said. 'It's pretty obvious.'
'Exunckly!' cried the BFG. 'Every afternoon all these nine giants is lying on the ground snoozling away in
a very deep sleep. They is always resting like that before they is galloping off to guzzle another helping
of human beans.'
'Go on,' they said. 'So what?'
'So what you soldiers has to do is to creep up to the giants while they is still in the Land of Noddy and tie
their arms and legs with mighty ropes and whunking chains.'
'Brilliant,' the Queen said.
'That's all very well,' said the Head of the Army. 'But how do we get the brutes back here? We can't load
fifty-foot giants on to trucks! Shoot 'em on the spot, that's what I say!'
The BFG looked down from his lofty perch and said, this time to the Head of the Air Force, 'You is having
bellypoppers, is you not?'
'Is he being rude?' the Head of the Air Force said.
'He means helicopters,' Sophie told him.
'Then why doesn't he say so? Of course we have helicopters.'
'Whoppsy big bellypoppers?' asked the BFG.

'Very big ones,' the Head of the Air Force said proudly. 'But no helicopter is big enough to get a giant like
that inside it.'
'You do not put him inside,' the BFG said. 'You sling him underneath the belly of your bellypopper and
carry him like a porteedo.'

'Like a what?' said the Head of the Air Force.
'Like a torpedo,' Sophie said.
'Could you do that, Air Marshal?' the Queen asked.

'Well, I suppose we could,' the Head of the Air Force admitted grudgingly.
'Then get cracking!' the Queen said, 'You'll need nine helicopters, one for each Giant.'
'Where is this place?' the Air Force man said to the BFG. 'I presume you can pinpoint it on the map?'
'Pinpoint?' said the BFG. 'Map? I is never hearing these words before. Is this Air Force bean talking
slushbungle?'
The Air Marshal's face turned the colour of a ripe plum. He was not used to being told he was talking
slushbungle. The Queen, with her usual admirable tact and good sense, came to the rescue. 'BFG,' she
said, 'can you tell us more or less where this Giant Country is?'
'No, Majester,' the BFG said. 'Not on my nelly.'
'Then we're jiggered!' cried the Army General.
'This is ridiculous!' cried the Air Marshal.
'You must not be giving up so easy,' the BFG said calmly. 'The first titchy bobsticle you meet and you
begin shouting you is biffsquiggled.'

The Army General was no more used to being insulted than the Air Marshal. His face began to swell with
fury and his cheeks blew out until they looked like two huge ripe tomatoes. 'Your Majesty!' he cried. 'We
are dealing with a lunatic! I want nothing more to do with this ridiculous operation!'

The Queen, who was used to the tantrums of her senior officials, ignored him completely. 'BFG,' she
said, 'Would you please tell these rather dim-witted characters exactly what to do.'

'A pleasure, Majester,' said the BFG. 'Now listen to me carefully, you two bootbogglers.'

The military men began to twitch, but they stayed put.

'I is not having the foggiest idea where Giant Country is in the world,' the BFG said, 'but I is always able
to gallop there. I is galloping forthwards and backwards from Giant Country every night to blow my
dreams into little chiddler's bedrooms. I is knowing the way very well. So all you is having to do is this.
Put your nine big bellyhoppers up in the air and let them follow me as I is galloping along.'

'How long will the journey take?' the Queen asked.

'If we is leaving now,' the BFG said, 'we will be arriving just as the giants is having their afternoon
snozzle.'

'Splendid,' said the Queen. Then turning to the two military men, she said, 'Prepare to leave
immediately.'

The Head of the Army, who was feeling pretty miffed by the whole business, said, 'That's all very well,
Your Majesty, but what are we going to do with the blighters once we've got them back?'

'Don't you worry about that,' the Queen told him. 'We'll be ready for them. Hurry up, now! Off you go!'

'If it pleases Your Majesty,' Sophie said, 'I should like to ride with the BFG, to keep him company.'

'Where will you sit?' asked the Queen.

'In his ear,' Sophie said. 'Show them, BFG.'

The BFG got down from his high chair. He picked Sophie up in his fingers. He swivelled his huge right ear
until it was parallel with the ground, then he placed Sophie gently inside it.

The Heads of the Army and the Air Force stood there goggling. The Queen smiled. 'You really are rather
a wonderful giant,' she said.

'Majester,' the BFG said, 'I is wishing to ask a very special thing from you.'

'What is it?' the Queen said.

'Could I please bring back here in the bellypoppers all my collection of dreams? They is taking me years
and years to collect and I is not wanting to lose them.'

'Why of course,' the Queen said. 'I wish you a safe journey.'

The BFG had made thousands of journeys to and from Giant Country over the years, but he had never in
his life made one quite like this, with nine huge helicopters roaring along just over his head. He had
never before travelled in broad daylight either. He hadn't dared to. But this was different. Now he was
doing it for the Queen of England herself and he was frightened of nobody.
As he galloped across the British Isles with the helicopters thundering above him, people stood and
gaped and wondered what on earth was going on. They had never seen the likes of it before. And they
never would again.
Every now and then, the pilots of the helicopters would catch a glimpse of a small girl wearing glasses
crouching in the giant's right ear and waving to them. They always waved back. The pilots marvelled at
the giant's speed and at the way he leapt across wide rivers and over huge houses.
But they hadn't seen anything yet.
'Be careful to hang on tight!' the BFG said. 'We is going fast as a fizzlecrump!' The BFG changed into his
famous top gear and all at once he began to fly forward as though there were springs in his legs and
rockets in his toes. He went skimming over the earth like some magical hop-skip-and-jumper with his

feet hardly ever touching the ground. As usual, Sophie had to crouch low in the crevice of his ear to save
herself from being swept clean away.

The nine pilots in their helicopters suddenly realized they were being left behind. The giant was
streaking ahead. They opened their throttles to full speed, and even then they were only just able to
keep up.
In the leading machine, the Head of the Air Force was sitting beside the pilot. He had a world atlas on his
knees and he kept staring first at the atlas, then at the ground below, trying to figure out where they
were going. Frantically he turned the pages of the atlas. 'Where the devil are we going?' he cried.
'I haven't the foggiest idea,' the pilot answered. 'The Queen's orders were to follow the giant and that's
exactly what I'm doing.'
The pilot was a young Air Force officer with a bushy moustache. He was very proud of his moustache. He
was also quite fearless and he loved adventure. He thought this was a super adventure. 'It's fun going to
new places,' he said.

'New places!' shouted the Head of the Air Force. 'What the blazes d'you mean new places?'

'This place we're flying over now isn't in the atlas, is it?' the pilot said, grinning.
'You're darn right it isn't in the atlas!' cried the Head of the Air Force. 'We've flown clear off the last
page!'
'I expect that old giant knows where he's going,' the young pilot said.
'He's leading us to disaster!' cried the Head of the Air Force. He was shaking with fear. In the seat behind
him sat the Head of the Army who was even more terrified.
'You don't mean to tell me we've gone right out of the atlas?' he cried, leaning forward to look.
'That's exactly what I am telling you!' cried the Air Force man. 'Look for yourself. Here's the very last
map in the whole flaming atlas! We went off that over an hour ago!' He turned the page. As in all
atlases, there were two completely blank pages at the very end. 'So now we must be somewhere here,'
he said, putting a finger on one of the blank pages.
'Where's here?' cried the Head of the Army.
The young pilot was still grinning broadly. He said to them, 'That's why they always put two blank pages
at the back of the atlas. They're for new countries. You're meant to fill them in yourself.'
The Head of the Air Force glanced down at the ground below. 'Just look at this godforsaken desert!' he
cried. 'All the trees are dead and all the rocks are blue!'
'The giant has stopped,' the young pilot said. 'He's waving us down.'

The pilots throttled back the engines and all nine helicopters landed safely on the great yellow
wasteland. Then each of them lowered a ramp from its belly. Nine jeeps, one from each helicopter, were
driven down the ramps. Each jeep contained six soldiers and a vast quantity of thick rope and heavy
chains.

'I don't see any giants,' the Head of the Army said.

'The giants is all just out of sight over there,' the BFG told him. 'But if you is taking these sloshbuckling
noisy bellypoppers any closer, all the giants is waking up at once and then pop goes the weasel.'

'So you want us to proceed by jeep?' the Head of the Army said.

'Yes,' the BFG said. 'But you must all be very very hushy quiet. No roaring of motors. No shouting. No
mucking about. No piggery-jokery.'

The BFG, with Sophie still in his ear, trotted forward and the jeeps followed close behind.

Suddenly the most dreadful rumbling noise was heard by everyone. The Head of the Army went pea-
green in the face. 'Those are guns!' he cried. 'There is a battle raging somewhere up ahead of us! Turn
back, the lot of you! Let's get out of here!'

'Pigspiffle!' the BFG said. 'Those noises is not guns.'

'Of course they're guns!' shouted the Head of the Army. 'I am a military man and I know a gun when I
hear one! Turn back!'

'Those is just the giants snortling in their sleep,' the BFG said. 'I is a giant myself and I know a giant's
snortle when I is hearing one.'

'Are you quite sure?' the Army man said anxiously.

'Positive,' the BFG said.

'Proceed cautiously,' the Army man ordered.

They all moved on.

Then they saw them!

Even at a distance, they were enough to scare the daylights out of the soldiers. But when they got close
and saw what the giants really looked like, they began to sweat with fear. Nine fearsome, ugly, half-
naked, fifty-feet-long brutes lay sprawled over the ground in various grotesque attitudes of sleep, and
the sound of their snoring was indeed like gunfire in a battle.

The BFG raised a hand. The jeeps all stopped. The soldiers got out.

'What happens if one of them wakes up?' whispered the Head of the Army, his knees knocking together
from fear.

'If any one of them is waking up, he will gobble you down before you can say knack jife,' the BFG
answered, grinning hugely. 'Me is the only one what won't be gobbled up because giants is never eating
giants. Me and Sophie is the only safe ones because I is hiding her if that happens.'

The Head of the Army took several paces to the rear. So did the Head of the Air Force. They climbed
rather quickly back into their jeep, ready to make a fast getaway if necessary. 'Go forward, men!' the
Head of the Army said. 'Go forward and do your duty bravely!'

The soldiers crept forward with their ropes and chains. All of them were trembling mightily. None dared
speak a word.

The BFG, with Sophie now sitting on the palm of his hand, stood near by watching the operation.

To give the soldiers their due, they were extremely courageous. There were six well-trained efficient
men working on each giant and within ten minutes eight out of the nine giants had been trussed up like
chickens and were still snoring contentedly. The ninth, who happened to be the Fleshlumpeater, was
causing trouble for the soldiers because he was lying with his right arm tucked underneath his enormous
body. It was impossible to tie his wrists and arms together without first getting that arm out from
underneath him.

Very very cautiously, the six soldiers who were working on the Fleshlumpeater began to pull at the huge
arm, trying to release it. The Fleshlumpeater opened his tiny piggy black eyes.

'Which of you foulpesters is wiggling my arm?' he bellowed. 'Is that you, you rotsome Manhugger?'

Suddenly he saw the soldiers. In a flash, he was sitting up. He looked around him. He saw more soldiers.
With a roar, he leapt to his feet. The soldiers, petrified with fear, froze where they were. They had no
weapons with them. The Head of the Army put his jeep into reverse.

'Human beans!' the Flushlumpeater yelled. 'What is all you flushbunking rotsome half-baked beans
doing in our country?' He made a grab at a soldier and swept him up in his hand.

'I is having early suppers today!' he shouted, holding the poor squirming soldier at arm's length and
roaring with laughter.

Sophie, standing on the palm of the BFG's hand, was watching horrorstruck. 'Do something!' she cried.
'Quick, before he eats him!'

'Put that human bean down!' the BFG shouted.

The Fleshlumpeater turned and stared at the BFG. 'What is you doing here with all these grotty twiglets!'
he bellowed. 'You is making me very suspichy!'

The BFG made a rush at the Fleshlumpeater, but the colossal fifty-four-foot-high giant simply knocked
him over with a flick of his free arm. At the same time, Sophie fell off the BFG's palm on to the ground.

Her mind was racing. She must do something! She must! She must! She remembered the sapphire
brooch the Queen had pinned on to her chest. Quickly, she undid it.

'I is guzzling you nice and slow!' the Fleshlumpeater was saying to the soldier in his hand. 'Then I is
guzzling ten or twenty more of you midgy little maggots down there! You is not getting away from me
because I is galloping fifty times faster than you!'
Sophie ran up behind the Fleshlumpeater. She was holding the brooch between her fingers. When she
was right up close to the great naked hairy legs, she rammed the three-inch long pin of the brooch as
hard as she could into the Fleshlumpeater's right ankle. It went deep into the flesh and stayed there.
The giant gave a roar of pain and jumped high in the air. He dropped the soldier and made a grab for his
ankle.

The BFG, knowing what a coward the Fleshlumpeater was, saw his chance. 'You is bitten by a snake!' he
shouted. 'I seed it biting you! It was a frightsome poisnowse viper! It was a dreadly dungerous
vindscreen viper!'

'Save our souls!' bellowed the Fleshlumpeater. 'Sound the crumpets! I is bitten by a septicous
venomsome vindscreen viper!' He flopped to the ground and sat there howling his head off and
clutching his ankle with both hands. His fingers felt the brooch. 'The teeth of the dreadly viper is still
sticking into me!' he yelled. 'I is feeling the teeth sticking into my anklet!'

The BFG saw his second chance. 'We must be getting those viper's teeth out at once!' he cried.
'Otherwise you is deader than duck-soup! I is helping you!'

The BFG knelt down beside the Fleshlumpeater. 'You must grab your anklet very tight with both hands!'
he ordered. 'That will stop the poisnowse juices from the venomsome viper going up your leg and into
your heart!'

The Fleshlumpeater grabbed his ankle with both hands.

'Now close your eyes and grittle your teeth and look up to heaven and say your prayers while I is taking
out the teeth of the venomsome viper,' the BFG said.

The terrified Fleshlumpeater did exactly as he was told.

The BFG signalled for some rope. A soldier rushed it over to him. With both the Fleshlumpeater's hands
gripping his ankle, it was a simple matter for the BFG to tie the ankles and hands together with a tight
knot.

'I is pulling out the frightsome viper's teeth!' the BFG said as he pulled the knot tight.

'Do it quickly!' shouted the Fleshlumpeater, 'before I is pizzened to death!'

'There we is,' said the BFG, standing up. 'You can look now.'

When the Fleshlumpeater saw that he was trussed up like a turkey, he gave a yell so loud that the
heavens trembled. He rolled and he wriggled, he fought and he figgled, he squirmed and he squiggled.
But there was not a thing he could do.

'Well done you!' Sophie cried.
'Well done you!' said the BFG, smiling down at the little girl. 'You is saving all of our lives!'
'Will you please get that brooch back for me,' Sophie said. 'It belongs to the Queen.'
The BFG pulled the beautiful brooch out of the Fleshlumpeater's ankle. The Fleshlumpeater howled. The
BFG wiped the pin and handed it back to Sophie.
Curiously, not one of the other eight snoring giants had woken up during this shimozzle. 'When you is
only sleeping one or two hours a day, you is sleeping extra doubly deep,' the BFG explained.
The Heads of the Army and the Air Force drove forward once again in their jeep. 'Her Majesty will be
very pleased with me,' the Head of the Army said. 'I shall probably get a medal. What's the next move?'
'Now you is all driving over to my cave to load up my bottles of dreams,' the BFG said.
'We can't waste time with that rubbish,' the Army General said.
'It is the Queen's order,' Sophie said. She was now back on the BFG's hand.
So the nine jeeps drove across to the BFG's cave and the great dream-loading operation began. There
were fifty-thousand jars in all to be loaded up, more than five thousand to each jeep, and it took over an
hour to finish the job.

While the soldiers were loading the dreams, the BFG and Sophie disappeared over the mountains on a
mysterious errand. When they came back, the BFG had a sack the size of a small house slung over his
shoulder.
'What's that you've got in there?' the Head of the Army demanded to know.
'Curiosity is killing the rat,' the BFG said, and he turned away from the silly man.
When he was sure that all his precious dreams had been safely loaded on to the jeeps, the BFG said,
'Now we is driving back to the bellypoppers and picking up the frightsome giants.'
The jeeps drove back to the helicopters. The fifty thousand dreams were carried carefully, jar by jar, on
to the helicopters. The soldiers climbed back on board, but the BFG and Sophie stayed on the ground.
Then they all returned to where the nine giants were lying.
It was a fine sight to see them, these great air machines hovering over the trussed-up giants. It was an
even finer sight to see the giants being woken up by the terrific thundering of the engines overhead, and
the finest sight of all was to observe those nine hideous brutes squirming and twisting about on the
ground like a mass of mighty snakes as they tried to free themselves from their ropes and chains.

'I is flushbunkled!' roared the Fleshlumpeater.
'I is splitzwiggled!' yelled the Childchewer.

'I is swogswalloped!' bellowed the Bonecruncher.
'I is goosegruggled!' howled the Manhugger.
'I is gunzleswiped!' shouted the Meatdripper.
'I is fluckgungled!' screamed the Maidmasher.
'I is slopgroggled!' squawked the Gizzardgulper.
'I is crodsquinkled!' yowled the Bloodbottler.
'I is bopmuggered!' screeched the Butcher Boy.

The nine giant-carrying helicopters each chose a separate giant and hovered directly over him. Very
strong steel hawsers with hooks on the ends of them were lowered from the front and rear of each
helicopter. The BFG quickly secured the hooks to the giants' chains, one hook near the legs and the
other near the arms. Then very slowly, the giants were winched up into the air, parallel with the ground.
The giants roared and bellowed, but there was nothing they could do.

The BFG, with Sophie once more resting comfortably in his ear, set off at a gallop for England. The
helicopters all banked around and followed after him.

It was an amazing spectacle, those nine helicopters winging through the sky, each with a trussed-up
fifty-foot-long giant slung underneath it. The giants themselves must have found it an interesting
experience. They never stopped bellowing, but their howls were drowned by the noise of the engines.

When it began to get dark, the helicopters switched on powerful searchlights and trained them on to
the galloping giant so as to keep him in sight. They flew right through the night and arrived in England
just as dawn was breaking.

Feeding Time

While the giants were being captured, a tremendous bustle and hustle was going on back home in
England. Every earth-digger and mechanical contrivance in the country had been mobilized to dig the
colossal hole in which the nine giants were to be permanently imprisoned.
Ten thousand men and ten thousand machines worked ceaselessly through the night under powerful
arc-lights, and the massive task was completed only just in time.

The hole itself was about twice the size of a football field and five hundred feet deep. The walls were
perpendicular and engineers had calculated that there was no way a giant could escape once he was put

in. Even if all nine giants were to stand on each other's shoulders, the topmost giant would still be some
fifty feet from the top of the hole.
The nine giant-carrying helicopters hovered over the massive pit. The giants, one by one, were lowered
to the floor. But they were still trussed up and now came the tricky business of releasing them from
their bonds. Nobody wanted to go down and do this because the moment a giant was freed, he would
be sure to turn on the wretched person who had freed him and gobble him up.

As usual, the BFG had the answer. 'I has told you before,' he said, 'giants is never eating giants, so I is
going down and I shall untie them myself before you can say rack jobinson.'
With thousands of fascinated spectators, including the Queen, peering down into the pit, the BFG was
lowered on a rope. One by one, he released the giants. They stood up, stretched their stiffened limbs
and started leaping about in fury.

'Why is they putting us down here in this grobsludging hole?' they shouted at the BFG.

'Because you is guzzling human beans,' the BFG answered. 'I is always warning you not to do it and you
is never taking the titchiest bit of notice.'

'In that case,' the Fleshlumpeater bellowed, 'I think we is guzzling you instead!'

The BFG grabbed the dangling rope and was hoisted out of the pit just in time.

The great bulging sack he had brought back with him from Giant Country lay at the top of the pit.

'What's in there?' the Queen asked him.

The BFG put an arm into the sack and pulled out a gigantic black and white striped object the size of a
man.

'Snozzcumbers!' he cried. 'This is the repulsant snozzcumber, Majester, and that is all we is going to give
these disgustive giants from now on!'

'May I taste it?' the Queen asked.

'Don't, Majester, don't!' cried the BFG. 'It is tasting of trogfilth and pigsquibble!' With that he tossed the
snozzcumber down to the giants below. 'There's your supper!' he shouted. 'Have a munch on that!' He
fished out more snozzcumbers from the sack and threw them down. The giants below howled and
cursed. The BFG laughed. 'It serves them right left and centre!' he said.

'What will we feed them on when the snozzcumbers are all used up?' the Queen asked him.

'They is never being used up, Majester,' the BFG answered, smiling. 'I is also bringing in this sack a whole
bungle of snozzcumber plants which I is giving, with your permission, to the royal gardener to put in the
soil. Then we is having an everlasting supply of this repulsant food to feed these thirstbloody giants on.'

'What a clever fellow you are,' the Queen said. 'You are not very well educated but you are really
nobody's fool, I can see that.'

The Author

Every country in the world that had in the past been visited by the foul man-eating giants sent telegrams
of congratulations and thanks to the BFG and to Sophie. Kings and Presidents and Prime Ministers and
Rulers of every kind showered the enormous giant and the little girl with compliments and thank-yous,
as well as all sorts of medals and presents.
The Ruler of India sent the BFG a magnificent elephant, the very thing he had been wishing for all his
life.

The King of Arabia sent them a camel each.
The Lama of Tibet sent them a llama each.
Wellington sent them one hundred pairs of wellies each.
Panama sent them beautiful hats.
The King of Sweden sent them a barrelful of sweet and sour pork.
Jersey sent them pullovers.
There was no end to the gratitude of the world.

The Queen herself gave orders that a special house with tremendous high ceilings and enormous doors
should immediately be built in Windsor Great Park, next to her own castle, for the BFG to live in. And a

pretty little cottage was put up next door for Sophie. The BFG's house was to have a special dream-
storing room with hundreds of shelves in it where he could put his beloved bottles. What is more, he
was given the title of The Royal Dream-Blower. He was allowed to go galloping off to any place in
England on any night of the year to blow his splendid phizzwizards in through the windows to sleeping
children. And letters poured into his house by the million from children begging him to pay them a visit.

Meanwhile, tourists from all over the globe came flocking to gaze down in wonder at the nine
horrendous man-eating giants in the great pit. They came especially at feeding-time, when the
snozzcumbers were being thrown down to them by the keeper, and it was a pleasure to listen to the
howls and growls of horror coming up from the pit as the giants began to chew upon the filthiest-tasting
vegetable on earth.
There was only one disaster. Three silly men who had drunk too much beer for lunch decided to climb
over the high fence surrounding the pit, and of course they fell in. There were yells of delight from the
giants below, followed by the crunching of bones. The head keeper immediately put up a big notice on
the fence saying, IT IS FORBIDDEN TO FEED THE GIANTS. And after that, there were no more disasters.
The BFG expressed a wish to learn how to speak properly, and Sophie herself, who loved him as she
would a father, volunteered to give him lessons every day. She even taught him how to spell and to

write sentences, and he turned out to be a splendid intelligent pupil. In his spare time, he read books.
He became a tremendous reader. He read all of Charles Dickens (whom he no longer called Dahl's
Chickens), and all of Shakespeare and literally thousands of other books. He also started to write essays
about his own past life. When Sophie read some of them, she said, 'These are very good. I think perhaps
one day you could become a real writer.'

'Oh, I would love that!' cried the BFG. 'Do you think I could?'

'I know you could,' Sophie said. 'Why don't you start by writing a book about you and me?'

'Very well,' the BFG said. 'I'll give it a try.'

So he did. He worked hard on it and in the end he completed it. Rather shyly, he showed it to the
Queen. The Queen read it aloud to her grandchildren. Then the Queen said, 'I think we ought to get this
book printed properly and published so that other children can read it.' This was arranged, but because
the BFG was a very modest giant, he wouldn't put his own name on it. He used somebody else's name
instead.

But where, you might ask, is this book that the BFG wrote?

It's right here. You've just finished reading it.